


Guilty Pleasure

by asslalonde (rawrmynameisval)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Threesome, Unrequited Feels, and by that i mean in his late thirties, bc of the huge age gap, bro is like a thousand years old, kind of a not love triangle, long build up and creepy pining tho before that happens, lots of incest in this, probs some bdsm, the kids are technically late teens but i tagged this as underage anyway, what a gross old man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrmynameisval/pseuds/asslalonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose is staying with the Striders for the summer, and Bro starts obsessing a little. Okay, a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> found this old fanfiction i wrote like three years ago (when i still read homestuck) in a doc titled "bro has a broner for rose".  
> i edited/added to it, and now im posting it because im bored and want attention.

The girl’s slick, and she reminds you of your brother. From the feigned confidence they share to the way their hips sway when they walk. Not overdoing it, but just enough for the movement to be noticeable. 

They’re echoes of each other. And it’s driving you crazy. 

You refuse to believe they’re related. Because if she’s really Dave’s sister that means she’s related to you too, and you don’t want to think of the field day Freud would have with the thoughts you’re having right now.

You watch her reach up to open the cabinets, the ones that are either empty or filled with your shit--and fucking damn, those pale thighs and perfect legs...

You want to grab her by her soft waist and kiss her long neck. You want to grab her by the hair and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. And then fuck her against the counter.

Even though it’s a fifty-fifty chance, her luck never fails. She gets the unloaded chamber in the revolver. Dave follows her pattern when he comes in, but he gets the bullet. He’s balls deep in puppet ass before he can let out a shriek of terror.

Rose doesn’t laugh, but she smiles, and you two exchange glances. In those three seconds your heart pounds out a beat in your chest. You’re glad your eyes are obscured. You know how well she can read people.

 

You’re surprised when you find them together in Dave’s room one night, when you go in to ask what they want for dinner.

They jump apart when you open the door, and Rose covers her bare chest with her arms. She bites her lip nervously. Her underwear is black. Dave’s in his boxers. Shades off. He doesn’t look you in the eyes.

Rose does.

You don’t say much, just freeze in the doorway, and when the shock wears off, you mumble something about ordering Chinese. They nod quickly. You close the door when you leave.

Rose doesn’t eat with you two. She piles food onto her plate and sneaks back into her room. Well, it’s your room. You’ve got the futon until she leaves at the end of the July.

“You’re into her, huh?” you ask Dave bluntly, just to get him to stop squirming next to you. You can tell he’s been waiting for you to bring it up.

He flinches, but that’s his only tell. Then he shrugs.

“She’s your sister, you know.”

He goes red, but manages to spit out a “yeah”.

“...And she’s okay with that too?” you prompt him.

He nods without looking at you. “It was her idea,” he mumbles defensively.

Interesting. You file that away in your mind for future reference. “Yeah, okay, just don’t get her pregnant.”

Dave chokes on his orange chicken.

 

You don’t bring it up after that, but you pretend not to hear Rose sneak into Dave’s room again the next night. 

It starts to piss you off that she’s paying more attention to him than you. You’re Bro Motherfucking Strider. You taught that kid everything he knows. Why would she go for a scrawny amateur like him when she could be riding your dick right now?

You feel kinda guilty and creepy about everything so you jack off, down some pills, and go to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Bro play a little twenty questions ;)  
> and by that I mean they actually play twenty questions and nothing sexy happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a longer chapter this time. you're welcome :)

“I need some tampons.”

You glance up at Rose. “Oh good, so the kid didn’t knock you up.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “We were never going to go so far as penetration.”

“Glad you fuck your brother responsibly.” Okay, so maybe you’re in a bad mood.

“I’m serious. Either drive me or let me drive.”

You stand up straight, looming over her almost threateningly. Really bad mood.

She stands her ground, but her eyes are wary and her hackles are raised. She’s talking in a low voice but you aren’t listening. God, she’s gorgeous. Gorgeous and sexy and you want to kiss her but you can’t because--

“--I’ll call my mother.”

You snap out of it at the mention of Roxy. Fuck.

You turn back to your machines, wiping sweat and grease out of your eyes. “Yeah, ‘kay, get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She gives you a suspicious glance, but follows your orders. Such nice legs. And that ass too. You try to mentally will away the semi-hard on you’ve got.

 

You don’t usually say much in the car, so it’s a quiet ride. Rose doesn’t seem to mind. Or maybe she does. You can’t see her face (she’s looking out the window), but her arms are crossed. You steal self-indulgent glances every few seconds. You hit a red light and you allow your eyes to drag over her body. She holds her proud posture, never letting her shoulders slump forward like Dave does. You don’t remember that particular skirt being that short. She must be growing. Maybe by the end of the summer, she’ll be as tall as Roxy. Part of you wants her to stay the height she is now. The logical part of your brain tells you you’d like her no matter how similar to Roxy she got, but you’re in an obstinate mood.

You’re not allowed to change, you think. You’re mine this way.

She looks forward suddenly. “Mr. Strider.”

Your jaw tightens at the name, and you look away from her just as the guy behind you starts honking his horn.

“The light--”

“Yeah, I see it,” you growl, and you stamp your foot down on the gas pedal.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Rose raise an eyebrow. She’s examining you now, and your skin is itching. You want to say something but she beats you to it.

“If you don’t want me to call you that, tell me your first name.”

You let out a tight, short laugh. “That’s personal information, sweetheart, and I don’t give out personal information for free.” Shit, did you really just say that?”

“What’s the price?”

You suck in a breath of air, trying not to think anything creepy. “Tell me something about you.”

She’s staring at you now, and you start praying to whatever fucker is watching over you right now that the heat under your skin isn’t visible.

“Like what?”

“I dunno--what’s your favorite color?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you realize how stupid they sound. But then again, this isn’t the first time Rose Lalonde has made you feel like an idiot.

She smiles. Painfully condescending. “Isn’t it obvious?” she answers, gesturing to her outfit made up almost entirely of purple.

“It was just an example,” you say gruffly, shooting her a look. You play it off okay, but not well enough to fool her. Dave, maybe. Rose, no.

“Right.” She leans back in her seat and takes her sweet time thinking of something to say. You’re practically grinding your teeth by the time she finally speaks up. “I want to be a writer.”

You look her over, trying to imagine her hunching over a laptop with reading glasses balancing on the bridge of her nose. It’s not hard. “I can see that. You any good?”

Rose smiles again. “Yes.”

“Rad.” The word is dry. You aren’t trying to be so curt. It just happens.

“So, what’s your first name?”

You throw her a look. “No way that was worth a question like that. You’ll have to work your way up, babe.”

“Fine. What do you do?”

“What, like, job-wise?”

“Yeah.”

“Man, that’s definitely worth way more than you telling me you wanna write.”

She lets out a defeated sigh that makes you want to get on your knees and apologize. Fucking Lalondes.

“Alright, but I’m getting totally ripped off here,” you say, pretending to be reluctant to tell her. “I’m a DJ. And a pornstar. But only on weekends. The DJ-ing, I mean. Being a pornstar is a twenty-four-seven job. I’d tell you not to mention it to your mother, but I’m pretty sure she predicted my future career decades ago.”

Rose laughs quietly and sparingly. “I thought Dave was joking.”

You allow yourself to look at her for much longer than someone who’s driving should have their eyes off the road. “What else has he told you about me?”

She shrugs off the question with ease. “I don’t remember the Walmart being this far away from your apartment.”

Damn. You forgot you were going anywhere. “We’re taking the scenic route.”

“Are you lost?”

“No, I’m not lost,” you grumble. “I grew up in this city. I am not capable of getting lost around here.”

The two of you fall back into silence. When you finally get there, you toss her your wallet and kick her out of the car.

You don’t close your eyes. You have to stay wary. Your hand finds your crotch as you slide down a little in your seat. You rub yourself through your jeans.

You barely breathe her name, not brave enough to say it any louder. You know she won’t be in there for long, but you can’t really help yourself. You need to get rid of the problem immediately. You leave the keys in the car and send her a quick text saying you’ll be in the bathroom in case she comes out and you’re not there. You don’t want to walk into Walmart with a boner though, so you find a spot behind the dumpsters and just start jerking it.

Not the classiest place in the world, but to be honest you’ve done worse.

It takes longer to finish than you thought it would, and it kind of dawns on you that your body’s getting old, even if you feel perpetually twenty-eight. You wipe your hands on your jeans, which are already so worn and dirty that a little jizz wouldn’t make much of a difference.

She’s already in the car when you get back. The corner of your mouth quirks up a little at her curious expression.

“What were you doing over there?” she asks.

“None of your fucking business,” you answer simply.

“No more questions then?”

You don’t answer. Just keep your eyes on the road this time.

She tch’s at you and shrugs towards the window. Away from your presence.

Asshole.

You really thought you’d been making progress.

You decide you’re not allowed to jerk off thinking about her anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna try n finish chapter 3 this weekend. no guarantees tho.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro jerks off to his weird, metaphor-filled fantasy.

You catch them together again when you come home at one in the morning and they’re still up. This time the sight makes you sick. They don’t jump three feet in the air like they did before. They glance at you uncomfortably, and wait quietly for you to leave.

You want her. You want her so bad.

You make your way back into the living room and make a mental note not to check on Dave every time you come home. Dude’s all grown up. He can take care of himself now. Now that he’s fucking his sister. But hey, it’s not like you’re in the place to judge.

Fuck. You hate your life.

You flop down onto the futon and suppress a groan. You hear her say his name and it hurts, it really hurts. Dark thoughts cross your mind before you roll over and shake them away.

 

You’re filming a new video today, for your site. Not the puppet one. You’ve got a variety to choose from so you don’t get bored. This one’s a personal site. All about you.

Dave and Rose are out (Dave knows the protocol: don’t come back for at least three hours or else whatever you see is your own damn fault), so you don’t have to worry about anyone walking in on you.

You set up the camera in the living room and you stretch out on the couch. You’re wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs They reveal plenty of your crotch bulge to your audience. You slide your hand under the low waistline. You bite your lip and arch your back as you grab yourself, taking it slow, enjoying the build up. You haven’t had a good jerk off sesh in a long time, and you don’t wanna cum too quickly.

If you’re going to be honest with yourself, you’re feeling kind of fucked up and indulgent today. You wanna get all “Id” up in this bitch, and you know exactly the best way to do it.

Dave’s room is dark, sunlight blocked out by black construction paper covering the single window in the room. You wonder if Rose likes it this way or if she prefers the natural light. You scan the room, searching for signs of her. It smells like sex and sweat in here. God, the kid really needs to learn to crack a window every once in awhile.

A pair of lacy black girly underwear (hidden almost completely by other laundry) finally catch your eye. You snatch up the panties, and for a moment consider smelling them. Then you wonder why the fuck you’re having this debate with yourself when you’re already going to jerk off into them. Honestly, how much creepier could you get? You ignore the suffocating pounding of your heart as you indulge in a little sniff. There’s not much there, and you might be imagining it, but you think you can detect a faint hint of sweaty girl crotch. You imagine burying your face between her thighs and inhaling. You want to feel her blonde curls against your cheek. Longing burns in your abdomen.

You make it back to the couch and get yourself settled in front of the camera. You close your eyes and stroke yourself, imagine her thighs as earmuffs. You’re sure if you stick out your tongue you could taste her: soft, hot, and dripping. Salty from sweat and cum. Wetness gathered in clumps of pubic hair, which react sensitively, like insect feelers, to your probing tongue.

It’s not that you’ve seen her naked or anything, but if she’s anything like Roxy, she doesn’t care much for shaving anything. You’re sure you’ve seen pale hairs on her legs catching light in your quick glances at her. She probably doesn’t even own a razor. You on the other hand, long ago perfected the skill of landscaping. It’s important in the porn business, which you’ve been in as long as you can remember. Though to be honest, you can’t always remember what you had for breakfast. Shit, you’re getting old. What are you doing chasing a girl almost half your age?

You shake off the boner-killing thoughts, another skill you’ve been working on for years, and continue jerking it. You let yourself moan a little, imagining her talking to you, giving you instructions or calling you names. Her dialogue is a twisted mash up of actual things she’s said to you in frustration and dialogue from domme porn vids you’ve seen. You’ve been watching a lot recently actually. The appeal of being under another person’s control never really occurred to you until you met Rose Lalonde for the first time. You wonder if you’re the only person she makes feel that way, or if Dave craves to be under her thumb as well.

Still feeling kind of fucked up, you allow your mind to wander to places you’re typically repulsed by going to: Dave’s sex life. To be fair, he is fucking the woman you’re madly in lust with, so it’s not really as incesty as it may seem. Then again, Rose might be your daughter, so--okay, let’s move on.

You’re having trouble getting close with the guilty thoughts bubbling up to the surface of your consciousness, so you just go ahead and dive deep into a fantasy.

Dave, between her legs, eating her out.

Rose, fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, moving his tongue to the right spot, controlling his every movement.

You, behind her, holding her up and kissing her neck as she writhes with pleasure, sucking hickeys into her soft skin, the vague scent of lavender in her hair. You allow yourself to nuzzle into her hair, and enjoy the warmth from her back pressed against your bare chest. Your fingers graze over her nipples, teasing her and eliciting moans that only you can get her to make. As Dave winds her up, you bring her over the edge with pinches and flicks and twists. Rose reaches up and pulls you down into a kiss as she cums, sucking you deep into her throat and inhaling you into her lungs and you fill every inch of her body, replacing her darkness with something substantial--none of that cliche bullshit like light or joy, but something real that she can trust in. On the outside, your arms curl around her, even as her fingernails rip at your skin, creating new, beautiful scars to remember her by.

Your impending orgasm returns you back to reality, sweaty and sore, and you begin to cum into Rose’s black lace panties just as you hear the front door open. You groan, as the sudden interruption causes a painful orgasm, your body doubly tense from the surprise and orgasmic contractions. Cum shoots out into Rose’s underwear as Rose’s eyes rake over you in what you can only imagine is disgust. Dave is bitching about something, probably you, but you can’t hear him. Your eyes meet Rose’s and she smiles. All you can hear is rushing water in your ears, and your pounding heartbeat, thick and fast. She turns away before your mind can register her expression, and you’re left wondering if you just imagined it. After all, your masturbatory fantasy was one hell of a trip, so who knows what your mind is coming up with now. The white noise fades out as you come down from your high.

Dave is lecturing you about where and when it’s appropriate to jerk off when you have a guest especially since "we were gone for like, four hours! Why couldn't you have jerked off, you know, earlier when you were sure we wouldn't be home, like a normal person?" but he’s interrupted by Rose mumbling something to him. His eyes flick to your hands, where you’re holding the cum-soaked panties. He lets out a stream of curses and pathetic cries of “not cool, man!” and “what happened to bro-code, huh?”

You feel nauseous as you stand, physically asserting your power over Dave, even though on the inside you feel like a preteen caught yanking it to furry porn by his Catholic parents. You toss the sticky underwear in the direction of his dumb face and grab your camera, retreating to your room to put some actual clothes on. Before you slam the door behind you, you think you hear Rose laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do a fist pump whenever i realize i've hit a thousand words without noticing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro hates himself, but what else is new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: eating disorder references in this chapter. Pls take care of urself and skip if you can't handle stuff like that.

You’re not embarrassed that they walked in on you. You would be embarrassed about the panties thing, if it was physically possible for a Strider to feel shame. In some ways, it does you a lot of good to be walked in on like that. “Caught” videos do amazingly, hence the thousands of fake ones posted online every day. But porn actors pretending to be surprised is nothing like the real thing. You’re going to make bank on this video. You just wish the aching jealousy that has taken up residence in your chest would cool its jets so you could enjoy your money.

They’ve stopped trying to hide it from you now. Everytime you walk into a room they’re huddled together, speaking softly, and as soon as they see you they get quiet.

Dave’s been weird around you too, even on his own. You know it’s not from seeing your dick. Raising a kid while also running several porn sites means the kid is gonna see some shit. You flashing him, even with his girlfriend/sister’s underwear in your hands, is nothing.

You get sick of feeling isolated in your own home, so even though you prefer to go out to socialize, you have a couple of your bros over for a beer or two (or eight or nine), hoping to mark your territory a little bit. Dave and Rose shack up in his room. You manage to pretend they’re not there until Dave comes out to inconspicuously grab a couple more slices of pizza. Of course ‘inconspicuous’ in Dave’s case might as well be announcing his presence to the entire room with a megaphone.

You’re leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to your buddies on the couch. He leans over you (not necessary) to get the pizza, and ‘accidentally’ brushes your crotch with his hip. He stays there too long (you can tell he isn’t breathing) before you finally shove him away.

“Get the hell off me, you moron,” you say a little too harshly. Your friends exchange glances as your brother rushes out of the room, pizza miraculously still on the paper plates instead of the floor. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks (and maybe a little to your dick too) as you turn around to open up another beer.

Later, after your buddies have gone home (assholes, every last one of them), you flashstep down the hall to Dave’s room and kick the door open. Dave looks startled and guilty, but Rose smiles coolly. Her hand is in his pants and his are under her shirt.

You’ve completely forgotten what you came in here to say. Something pissy and uncalled for, you’re sure. Rose whispers something in Dave’s ear that causes his hips to buck against her. She smiles at you conspiratorially, as if you have any fucking clue what’s going on here.

Striders don’t stumble over their words, but you can’t even think coherently right now so you leave without saying anything.

You find yourself in the bathroom, staring at your own reflection in the mirror. You look like a fucking mess. You take off your hat, and notice your roots are growing in, invading the blonde you bleached in to reverse your age a little. You remove your shades to check out the wrinkles under your eyes, a few dribbles of pizza sauce dried into your stubble. You cheeks look hollowed, and not in a sexy way. More like an “oh god, I’m suddenly reminded of my mortality” way. You tear off your shirt in a panic, and run your hands tenderly over your stomach. A few years ago you had abs there. When did you stop taking care of yourself? You don’t remember the last time you dedicated time to working out. Yeah, sure, you strife with Dave, but you don’t practice outside of those interactions anymore. You haven’t for years.

You're aching to purge yourself of all the beer and pizza that’s sitting heavy as a stone in your stomach right now. You haven’t thought in those terms for years, but the act comes back easily, like riding a bike, and forcing yourself to vomit feels familiar and comforting. You don’t cry when you realize what you’ve done. You’re more angry than anything. You sit silently on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, jaw clenched, teeth soft from your stomach acid.

You wonder why this is what finally caused you to relapse. After years of ignoring the tugging in the back of your mind--alcohol and sex and working out dulling the voice in your head that still tells you you aren’t good enough and that no one will ever love you--your weird incesty obsession is what shoves you back into the same insecure mindset from your adolescence.

She scares you. Your deep, unhealthy focus on her scares you. You’ve been resisting the urge to scream since the first time you let your eyes trail up her legs. You don’t know how Dave does it. It hurts like hell to love a Lalonde. It burns like acid in your brain, your lungs, your intestines. It feels like being suffocated, like she’s reaching inside your throat and slowly squeezing your heart, and one day it’ll burst. It’ll get to be too much and you’ll lose it and that’s what scares you the most. You’re completely at her mercy. She’s holding the leash, and you didn’t even realize you were wearing a collar. And now she has your brother pulling shit. Your own brother--who might even be your son (you’re still not quite clear on that). Dave, the dumbass that he is, is trying to seduce you because she put him up to it. What is her endgame? You can’t figure it out. The best you can come up with is that she’s trying to mess with you. You can sense that she’s building up to something. Everything so far, the questions, the teasing, catching them, catching you... It’s all leading up to something big she has planned. 

Somehow this comforts you. It feels good to pretend she could possibly care about you that much.

You pass out finally, the smell of vomit in your nose and its taste on your tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to post this. Lost track of this shit. Next chapter will be up within the week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension breaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are in luck this week. double update AND a chapter over 2000 words for the first time ever. wow. this one was hard to get out of my noggin.

Rose wakes you up. She stands over you in her pajamas, brushing her teeth. You blink in the bright fluorescent light. She when she sees you’re not dead, she turns back to the sink and spits, pulling her blonde hair out of the way. “Drank too much, huh?” she mumbles, as she inspects her face, still dewy from sleep.

You try not to stare at her chest, her perky nipples poking through through the thin fabric of her tank top. If you were any younger, you might have morning wood. Instead your dick is limp and your head is aching. 

“Yeah. Something like that,” you reply, forcing yourself to sit up, despite the wicked hangover you’re rocking.

“You’re going to kill yourself one day.”

Your head snaps up, surprised by her cold tone. Her words don’t come off like teasing or even scolding. It sounds more like a command.

She flashes you a smile in the mirror, and saunters out of your tiny bathroom. You hear Dave’s door slam, and you can’t help but imagine her climbing under the covers to surprise him with a blowjob. You’re sure he still wakes up hard. Even after weeks of near constant fucking, the kid could get a boner from a draft or some shit.

You decide you need to to get out of the house for a bit. You find your old gym bag deep in the shadowy depths of your closet, and head off to the nearest rec center. You need to get back into the habit of hurting yourself in a “healthy” way. Working out until you can barely move will hopefully help you dig yourself out of this depressive episode.

 

 

“Hey, Bro. ‘Sup?”

Dave’s on his laptop at the kitchen table when you get home, muscles sore and burning. You look around. No Lalondes in sight. Hmm.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you ask dryly.

Dave’s neck and ears turn pink. (Too easy.) “She’s not my--” He cuts himself off. “Dunno. Out, maybe.”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

You open the fridge for a moment before concluding there is nothing edible inside.

“Hey, you got any of those, uh, thumbdrives?” Dave asks far too casually to not be up to something.

“In my room.”

“Could you get one for me?”

You give him a look over your shades. “Why don’t you go get it yourself, man?”

“Well, I know how you don’t like me in your room and all...”

You shrug. “‘S no problem right now.”

He frowns. “I... Don’t like going in there. It’s, uh, gross. And it smells like your feet. I don’t know how Rose stands it...”

He’s overacting every word. What a shit liar. You’re almost ashamed to call yourself his brother. You’re getting bored of this game, and you figure whatever tricks he’s got up his sleeve you can handle. “Alright.”

Dave looks back at his screen, retaining his poker face. “Thanks.”

You stay for a second, just to see what he’ll do. You can tell he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He struggles to pretend he’s actually reading something on his screen. You kind of want to fight his damn suspicious ass. Instead, though, you leave the kitchen and head for your bedroom, keeping an eye out for boobytraps on the way. Whatever this kid is up to, it’s no good.

You knock before entering, just in case, but there’s no answer. In a moment of stupidity, you assume this must mean Rose is definitely out. You let the door swing open and step back, just in case a bucket of water is about to drench you, Carrie style. It would be an amatuer prank, but at this point you honestly wouldn’t put it past Dave.

There is no water, or bucket full of pig’s blood. No tricks. Nothing. 

Your desk chair swivels around to reveal Rose, like a movie villain or some shit. These dramatic as fuck kids. Right now Rose does not look like a kid. She looks like a grown ass woman in black lace underwear and thigh high stockings and garters. The same black lace panties you jerked off into. That she caught you jerking off into. Your breath catches as you wonder briefly if she even bothered to wash your jizz out of them. God, you’re such a perv. It was cute when you were younger but now you’re a gross old dude jizzing in a teenage girl’s panties. She cocks her head to the side and recrosses her legs, giving you a good view of said panties as she shifts.

“Oh, hello,” she says, as if she wasn’t totally waiting for you to walk in. “I was just playing a little game of dress up. You have some nice things in here. I adore these stockings.” She runs her delicate fingers over the fabric.

You feel like your head is underwater. Part of you wants to run away, the other part wants to throw her on the bed and fuck the shit out of her. The third, most overwhelming part wants to collapse at her feet and beg her for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what, you don’t know, but suddenly you feel like you’ve pissed off a very vengeful goddess. 

You want to worship her. You want to start a new religion in her name. You want to sacrifice your body and dedicate your life to her. You want to tattoo her name all over your body so anyone who looks at you will know who you exist to serve. You want her to tattoo you. No, you want her to carve her name into your skin with her fingernails. You want her to take your eyes out of your sockets so that she’s the last thing you ever see.

This is why you desperately try to avoid connecting with people you’re actually attracted to. This is why you’ve lost the number of every person you’ve fucked in the past several years. You know most people see you as a cold, calculating fuck machine when it comes to your dating life, but this is what happens when you go hard. When you’re in the shit. Deep in it. You obsess and idolize like it’s your fucking job. It makes you hate yourself and causes you insurmountable pain, but you can’t help it because your dumb ass is in love. 

Now she’s finally standing here, in front of you, ready for the taking, and you have no clue what your next move will be.

Luckily, Rose makes the decision for you. She crooks her finger at you, motioning you to come closer. You step forward cautiously. She looks up at you with confidence, but underneath it, if you look close enough, you can just barely see a scared little girl who might have bitten off more than she can chew. You try not to look that closely. She stands, maintaining eye contact.

“Take off your shirt,” she commands, voice just barely shaking with nerves. You wish you didn’t notice details like that.

You ignore the guilt gnawing at you and yank off your polo. You’re glad you showered and changed at the gym, because doing this stinking of sweat and in your douchey basketball shorts would not be nearly as sexy.

She stands, and very slowly lean in to kiss you. You lose your cool and pull her close to you, grabbing her by the hair and kissing her passionately. She shoves you away before you can satisfy yourself and slaps you hard.

“Don’t touch me,” she says steadily, and even though she’s much shorter than you, and has about as much muscle mass as a houseplant, you hear that ‘or else’ she doesn’t say out loud. You back down, but you can’t help but smile. She’s so beautiful when she’s angry.

You let her push you down onto your knees, and lean into her hand like a dog as she ruffles your bleached hair, which is uncharacteristically ungelled since you’d just showered. She grabs a fistful of hair and moves your head around in lazy circles, just to establish that she is in control of your movement and that you are meant to let her move you. She slaps you again, this time not as hard, but still firm and commanding. You wince at first, but then close your eyes and sigh happily. When she pulls off your shades, your whole body jerks, your hand snapping to her small wrist instinctively. She tries to shake you off, but it’s the look that she gives you that finally makes you let her take away your only security blanket. You stare up at her, eagerly waiting to see what she’ll do next.

She just frowns, and as the seconds quietly tick by, she seems to get more and more frustrated with you. Her hand in your hair tightens until your scalp begins to sting. You take the abuse without complaint. You’ve been waiting for this for so fucking long, but you never thought she’d be the one to initiate it. She could pull out an ax right now and hack you into bits and you’d welcome death at her hands.

“I’m doing this for him,” she says, and your gorey fantasies fade back to reality.

“What?”

She grits her teeth. “This isn’t for you. It’s for him. He asked me.”

You don’t understand. “Who?”

She shakes you by the hair roughly. “Dave!” she hisses. “You know, your brother?”

“He’s not really my brother,” you respond stupidly.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, getting exasperated. “I’m just trying to clarify--to give context to the situation. I’m sure you’ve made it all up in your head that I’m been screwing him to get to you or something. But it’s not about you. It never was.” She leans down and gets in your face. “And this isn’t either.”

You blink. “What? But why--why are you doing this?”

“I already told you. Dave asked me to.” Rose lets go of you and crosses her arms, pouting in a way you can only find incredibly sexy.

“That doesn’t make any sense though. Why would he--?” You shut up, because the condescending expression on her face and fierce jealousy in her eyes answers your question before you can finish it.

“Honestly, I don’t get it. You’re years older than us, and while you may have been attractive at one point, I certainly don’t see it now. But I suppose he still sees you as his cool older bro. He idolizes you. Wants to be just like you.” She scowls. “Trust me, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening.”

Every words she spits at you strikes you with another level of pain. You catch a glimpse of your hands and realize you’re trembling. All this time, Dave was the one pushing her to get to know you, to flirt, to lead you on.

“To be frank, I find you revolting, Mr. Strider.”

You glare up at her, pinning your tongue between your teeth and biting down until you taste blood. You’re desperate now to feel something other than this pain in your gut that feels like snakes on fire, writhing inside you.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “But I love him. And he loves you. Why, I don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re an alcoholic, sex addicted, chauvinist pig. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I know what a neglectful, manipulative guardian you’ve been to Dave. I can’t forgive you for all the fuckery you put him through.”

You feel your dick twitch when she curses, and you feel furious at yourself. How can you still find her so hot after all this?

“That being said, Dave and I plan on engaging in a sexual relationship with you. Dave needs some sort of affection from his parental figure, and I believe this will be the fastest way to heal him from all those years of abuse.”

The word hits you cold. You try to swallow but your throat is too dry.

“Perhaps once he’s had enough, he’ll come to his senses about you, and we can continue our relationship without constantly being interrupted by these emotional roadblocks you left in his mind.”

You stare at the floor, feeling lost in your own body, in your own home, your own reality. When did shit get so complicated and fucked?

“So? Are you in?”

“Huh?” you grunt.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you interested in a polyamorous arrangement between you, Dave, and I?”

You want to tell her to go fuck herself. You want to throw her out of the apartment, let her survive on her own for the rest of the summer. You want to beat her up, make her feel as much pain as she’s blessed you with, leave her for dead in a ditch. But of course you don’t do any of that. You just silently nod.

She lets out a sigh of relief and claps her hands together. “Wonderful. Now, let’s talk terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies if there are any plot/character inconsistencies. some of this i wrote months ago, before the last chapter, and some i wrote just now, coming up with a new direction to take rose's character. i'd be interested to hear your feedback, although i can't say it'll necessarily change anything.


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